"My child," said the father, "look up to Oh, sad was the father, when, lo! in the the skies, skies Behold yon bright rainbow, those beautiful The rainbow again spread its beauteous dyes; dyes; There, there are the dew-drops in glory And then he remembered the maxims he'd reset,given, 'Mid the jewels of heaven they are glittering And thought of his child and the dewyet! drops-in heaven.

Why stand you musing all alone,
With such an anxious eye?

What is it, child, that aileth you?"

And thus she made reply:

But morn and eve we prayed to Heaven
That he might not be lost.

And when the pleasant spring came on,
And fields again were green,

"The fields are green, the skies are bright, He sent a letter full of news
Of the wonders he had seen;

The leaves are on the tree,

And 'mong the sweet flowers of the thyme Praying us to think him dutiful,
Far flies the honey-bee;

And the lark hath sung since morning

As he afore had been.

The tidings that came next were from

A sailor old and gray,

Who saw his ship at anchor lie

In the harbour at Bombay;

But he said my brother pined for home,
And wished he were away.

Again he wrote a letter long,

Without a word of gloom;
And soon, and very soon, he said,
He should again come home:

I watched, as now, beside the door,
And yet he did not come.

I watched and watched, but I knew not then
It would be all in vain;

For very sick he lay the while,

In a hospital in Spain.
Ah, me! I fear my brother dear
Will not come home again.

And now I watch, for we have heard
That he is on his way;

And the letter said, in very truth,

He would be here to-day.
Oh! there's no bird that singeth now
Could tempt me hence away!"—

That self-same eve I wandered down
Unto the busy strand,

Just as a little boat came in
With people to the land;
And 'mongst them was a sailor boy,
Who leaped upon the sand.

I knew him by his dark-blue eyes,
And by his features fair;
And as he leaped ashore, he sang
A simple Scottish air-

"There's nae place like our ain dear hame
To be met wi' onywhere!"

MARY HOWITT.

41

COWPER.

PADDLE YOUR OWN CANOE.

VOYAGER upon life's sea, to yourself be But, if these will not suffice, golden gain true, And where'er your lot may be, "Paddle And to gain the glittering prize,

pursue;

your own canoe !"

"Paddle

Would you wrest the wreath of fame from the hand of fate?

Would you write a deathless name with the good and great?

and soul imbue

Nobly dare the wildest storm, stem the Would you bless your fellow-men? Heart hardest gale; Brave of heart and strong of arm, you will With the holy task, and then "Paddle never fail.

your own canoe!"

Would you crush the tyrant wrong, in the world's free fight?

With a spirit brave and strong, battle for the right:

Every wave that bears you on to the silent And to break the chains that bind the shore,

many to the few

From its sunny source has gone, to return To enfranchise slavish mind-" Paddle

your own canoe!"

Nothing great is lightly won, nothing won is lost;

Every good deed, nobly done, will repay the cost:

Leave to Heaven, in humble trust, all you
will to do;

But, if you succeed, you must "PADDLE
YOUR OWN CANOE!"

ANON.